Date: Sun, 12 Nov 2006 08:41:43 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee
Subject: OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL 02
The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.
%
"OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL" 02
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
First to wake, Cliff rolled over on his back, with a
royal hangover, a mixture of beer and sex. As most
mornings, his hand moved to between his legs. `Ugh,'
he thought, puzzled, to find his cock soft and `raw'.
Usually he was raring to stroke it, chopping his
morning wood, before heading off to the jon.
"What tha?"
After looking over to the side of the bed, at Jim's
bare back, he starts to put the pieces into
perspective.
"Oh," Cliff sighed, then remembering, with a smile,
"That's right!"
Still under the influence of a sweet dream, Jim slept
through Cliff's redeveloping thoughts, recalling last
night, the stripping in the livingroom, the shower
scene, tumbling into bed, othe highlights of the late
evening. Reaffirming his memory, brought about by
retouching his deflated shaft, he smiled. Leaning
over, he kissed Jim on the right shoulder. Still
sleeping, Cliff decided to sneak away, get a shower,
to wash last night's sex off, then get started on some
breakfast.
"Oh damn!"
Standing at the vanity, he forgot about the beer which
had waterfalled out of his briefs. Stepping high, he
wrinkled his nose up, his feet making sticky sounds.
Too, he complained to himself about the empty beer can
in the sink and the one on the vanity, most likely
flat. Sniffing at the opening, he fanned the fumes
away. Only one thing kept him from going over the
edge, cursing out loud, his memory.
"Hurry up, if you're going, I gotta take a leak real
bad!"
In his reverie, Cliff turns, with a grin.
"What are you all smilies for?"
"Oh, my feet were just thinking about how come they
are sticking to the floor!"
"It's your own fault, Cliff."
"'My' fault? May I remind you, it wasn't me who dumped
the beer on the floor?"
"I didn't dump it on the floor."
"You know what I mean!"
"It is my fault you don't have waterproof briefs?"
"Waterproof briefs?"
"Yeah and is it my fault, when I told you I shouldn't
have more than one beer? You gave me two."
"I thought it was three," Cliff mentally counts up the
tally.
"Two or three, it's your fault for letting me have it.
I told you I'm not a big drinker."
"Hmmm.... how old are you?"
"Twenty-seven."
"In my book, anybody over twenty-one is responsible
for their own actions, so grow up little boy!"
"Hmm.... responsible for my own actions, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Then hold me responsible for this!"
"Oooooooooooh!"
Cliff couldn't help but sigh out loud, when Jim
singles out his pink nips, hiding in his chest fur.
Utilizing them for handles, he pulls himself into
Cliff's embrace. After they part from their sweet
lip-lock Cliff has plenty to complain about.
"My nips are sore."
"I don't doubt it," Jim replies, heading for the
toilet.
"What's up with that?"
"I think you had more to drink than I."
"Oh?"
Looking in the mirror, Cliff's nublets stand out, even
without probing through his pec hair.
"Yeah, you couldn't get enough of me twisting them,
mashing them," Jim reports, whizzing.
"I don't remember."
"Maybe you don't, but your nubs do!"
While Jim took his leak, Cliff reached under the sink
for paper towels. Soaking them, he bent down to wipe
up the yellowish stains on the tile. Soon, two feet
stepped in front of him. Looking up, Jim still had a
hard on.
"Excuse me. Can I get through?"
"Maybe. After you pay the toll?"
"How much?"
"One load."
"I'm not in the mood."
"That's okay. I have ways of putting a guy in the
mood!"
"I don't doubt it. How many guys have you sucked?"
"Who said I sucked any guys?"
"Cliff, whether you realize it or not, you compared
almost every one night stand with the way my ass
felt!"
"I did, did I?"
"But I forgive you."
"Forgive me? What's there to be forgiven about?"
Jim loved humiliating Cliff. Squeezing past, without
paying the `toll', he stepped over the tub wall. With
the mess more or less removed from the tiles, Cliff
stood up, entering the stall.
"Are you going to close the door?"
"Drafty?"
"Yeah. When you're talking, the Santa Ana wind does
tend to pick up!"
Cliff didn't know what to throw back in Jim's face. As
he closed the door, Jim turned on the jet.
"Oooooooooooooh fuckin' shit!"
All Jim could do is laugh, as the cold water shot at
Cliff, straight in the mid-chest.
"Awake?" Jim asked, adjusting the temps.
"That was dirty."
"Yeah. I know. Pass the soap, please?"
Cliff passed it alright. Personally delivered, a low
blow, his hand moving under Jim's balls.
"Oooooooooh! I don't deserve this."
"I know you don't!"
The bar of soap traversed around Jim's thigh, up his
back. When Cliff slid it back down, it became
centered.
"Cleaning up the mess you made last night?"
"To do that, I would have to give it a push."
"Y'know," Jim overrides the soap bar, "I thought it
would hurt a lot more, first time and all."
"Really? Are you sure it `was' the first time?"
"I'm not a slut like you!"
"I'm not a slut."
"Picking up hitchhikers on the side of the road and
taking them home?"
"I told you you weren't the first hitchhiker I picked
up. I was being truthful, but I didn't hear you
confessing anything last night."
As the water played over their bodies, Jim's face
caught a blast.
"Don't try to hide that smile from me, `Jimmy'!"
Cliff made it sound like Jim's mother, scolding him.
"Like I said, I never let a guy fuck me."
Cliff didn't think Jim's statement had full
conviction, but let it ride.
"Okay, so what else?"
"Oh, college stuff."
"Like what?"
"I dunno."
"Name one thing."
Thinking, Jim snaps his fingers, making a dull sound,
drowned by the water.
"The night of the living jello."
"Night of the what?"
"Yeah. A bunch of us frat guys got together. We bought
ourselves one of them blow up pools?"
"They explode?"
"No, doofus. Air? You blow them up with air?"
"Oh yeah. So?"
Rolling his eyes, Jim continues, "Yeah, so we filled
it with red jello, then had wrestling matches."
"In the jello?"
"Yeah. Was hot stuff."
"Did they know you were gay?"
"Hell yeah. They were too."
"Who was?"
"All the other guys."
"How many?"
"I dunno." Shrugging his shoulders, Jim replies, "Off
and on, maybe ten or twelve."
"That many gay guys?"
"Hell, Cliff. I thought being a doctor you would be up
on your medical statistics. One in every seven guys is
gay, dah!"
"I hadn't a clue. "So, you got all slimy?"
"Yeah. Was real hot. Some guys would be licking me all
over, I'd lick them. Some guys would be fucking other
guys. Sometimes some gang-banging would progress. What
a bunch of perverts we were!"
Cliff parked the thought in his brain. Might be an
interesting thing for him to surprise Jim with some
night.
"What else did you do?"
"Usually sex, sucking guys. One time I went to a white
party."
"White party?"
Seeing Cliff hadn't a clue, Jim began to explain.
"Um, you want to rinse off? I'm getting kind of
waterlogged."
Cliff agreed, "Okay, but this isn't the end of our
conversation."
Jim had hoped not. He got all tingly inside
remembering the hot studs he played with back in the
city, at college and other fun places. Back in the
bedroom, they picked up where they left off.
"Um, didn't your momma teach you no manners?"
"For what?" Jim replies.
"To ask before taking other people's stuff?"
"Oh, well," Jim states, matter-of-factly, "I figured,
since you know I don't have anything extra, you would
be offering anyway."
"True," Cliff returns an answer, adding, "so just
where are your clothes?"
Unfolding a pair of fresh socks, Jim says, "I shipped
them separately. They should be getting here any day
now."
Seeing he was about to go through a heap of clothing,
between the two, Cliff went to the closet, to fetch
the laundry basket. On his way, Jim, sitting on an a
wooden chair, pauses, watching the mounds in Cliff's
briefs shift from left to right. He smiles, thinking,
`he had his fill of my ass last night. I wonder if I
get to drill his?' The room vacant, he continues
dressing himself, helping himself to a tee shirt and a
pair of jeans.
"Don't you look a sight!"
"Right. The tee shirt is cool, but I look like a real
sagboy in these!"
"Sagboy?"
"Yeah. Guys walking around in pants, looking a coupla
sizes bigger than they ought to be."
"Sagboys, huh?"
"Yep. Plenty of them in the city. Why? What definition
did you pick?"
As if Jim didn't know!
Smiling, Cliff replies, "Never mind."
"No. Go ahead. Tell me. I won't laugh." Then delayed,
"Too much!"
"Being you had so time away in the big city, I figured
it might be one of those sexual references."
Beginning as a giggle, his shoulders began shaking,
before he broke out in laughter.
"Not much sefl-control you have there, do you Jim?"
"Sorry."
Cliff paused, looking at Jim, only dressed in his
socks, ready to spring on him the most perfect joke.
He made it most obvious, staring at Jim's treasure
trail, following it to the deflated shaft, hanging
freely over the set of orbs. Closing in, Cliff reached
down, with his hand, making Jim's cock flop up and
down.
"Sure you are, `sagboy'!"
"Wait til tonight. You'll be calling me `timberboy'."
"Oh yeah? Well don't you get any ideas about where
you're going to put it!"
After saying it, Cliff, still the laundry basket in
his unoccupied hand, set about to pick up dirty
clothes here and there, set about the room for the
past five days.
The thought in place, Jim stood there, hands on his
bare torso, thinking about a few minutes ago, as he
got his hopes up, regarding where he might be putting
his thick wood. Looking up at Cliff, busying himself
with the laundry chore, Jim, as he learned the first
time around, in a relationship, even if only friends,
you have to have some concessions. He let the feeling
go, to see what happens later.
"I meant to tell you something, Cliff."
"What?"
"You're a real slob, you know?"
Going for his briefs, set on the chair, hanging from
the back, Jim couldn't figure out which was the clean
one, which the dirty. Picking it up, he sniffed at the
first.
"Here's a funky one!" he called to Cliff.
Holding the basket, Cliff replies, "Two points," when
Jim flings it across the room, scoring.
"I used to play a lot of basketball when I was a kid."
"Your dad play with you?"
"No. I..."
The two stood there, Jim feeling up the elastic of the
tightey whities, readying to place them on.
"Well?"
Standing there, both hands holding the weighted down
laundry basket, Cliff waits.
"I used to play basketball with my brother. He was two
years older than me."
"Was?"
"Yeah. You see, my folks weren't always this keen on
the idea of their son, well `sons', being gay. But
they paid a terrible price in order to set those
feelings aside and take up new views."
Setting the laundry basket on the bed, Cliff senses
Jim needs some sweet support.
"And how did all of this evolve?"
Looking up at Cliff, now standing immediately in front
of him, Jim looks up at him, then down, at the Fruit
Of The Loom label, picking at it.
"I haven't talked about this in a long time."
"Need to share?"
"When I was in the city, the first week, us frat guys
went to a gay sports bar. I hooked up with an older
guy, who later I found out was a psychologist. He gave
me some free session time."
"In exchange for?"
"In exchange for lying naked in the sheets, with no
other strings attached, nosy!"
"Curious. That's all. So, what happened, if I'm not
being too nosy?"
"My brother, Ian and I were close."
"Because of you both being gay," Cliff assumed.
"No, not only as a result of that. We just got along
good. Since young kids, we did most things together,
had mutual friends, etcetera. I had this strange
feeling about myself, but never cared to share it,
until I was around fifteen. So, one day, when we went
skinnydipping, we lay out on the grass, to dry off. I
couldn't help myself, Cliff. There, Ian was lying
there, his eyes closed, as the sun glistened off the
water crystals on his body. To me, he looked like a
god!"
"I know the feeling, but I'll hold the thought for
another time. Go ahead."
"My hand hovered over his stomach for all of almost a
minute. I wanted to so badly feel another man. It
never occurred to me I was touching my own brother,
until I actually did it!"
"He wake up and bop you one?"
"No. He didn't even flinch. Never even opened his
eyes. With his hands still parked behind his head, he
softly moaned, saying `feels real good.' I was so
surprised, I lifted my hand off of him."
"Then he bopped you?"
Now Cliff was joking.
"Nope," Jim acted annoyed, but wasn't. "Removing one
of his hands, he grabbed my wrist and slapped my own
palm down on his wet stomach. It's as if it were
yesterday. I can still hear the sound of my wet slap
on his skin."
"So, did he get involved, touching you?"
"Not really. Well, yeah a little bit," Jim changes his
mind, with recurring thoughts. "But not before I had
rubbed my hand over his stomach, chest and touched the
little bit of hair growing below his navel and lower
extremities."
"You didn't go any lower?"
Looking once more at the FOTL's he held, Jim moves it
a tad.
"Hmm... I can see you're enjoying my story and no, not
our first time together."
"Yes, I'm enjoying it, but not from the standpoint
you're referring to. You're not the only one needing
to relieve their bladder, mind you!"
"Yeah. Okay. So, sometimes I've got a one track mind
when it comes to a hard dick."
"So?"
"Huh?"
"Your brother? You then went on to have another bout
at it?"
"More than once. At the time we didn't realize it as
`gay sex', but we went through all the `moves'."
"Except fucking?"
"Cliff, I kind of fibbed to you."
"Ian fucked you?"
"Yeah. But I don't count it, on account of he is my
brother and it wasn't like he got the whole thing in
there.."
"Wait a minute."
Cliff probably should have been picking up on the
breaking and entering, but instead looked at it from
the grammatical standpoint.
"Wait. You said `is'. Before you referred to Ian as
`was'."
"Yeah, well here's the heartbreaking part. We talked
about coming out to our parents. Ian thought, him
being the oldest, he would come out first. If they
didn't take it too well, then there would be no need
for me to follow."
"Logical I suppose."
"Yeah, but I bet you're thinking what a coward I am,
huh?"
"No. I never said or even thought it, Jim."
"Sorry."
With Cliff's hands, now pawing up and down Jim's arms,
massaging to soothe, there's an immediate change of
attitude about the twenty-seven year old.
"You don't have to be. I could see where you would
want to be. I think I can guess the outcome of your
folks' reaction, at the revealing of your secret.
Anger?"
"To say the least. Try `rage'? Right away, mom had to
phone the minister of the church. You would think they
could think for themselves, dah! But no, with scary
stuff about a son being `gay', in a religious sense,
`evil', well if wasn't too long, before the preacher
was knocking at our door. He had an elder with him,
this big burley guy."
Cliff tried recalling, whom, twelve years ago or so,
could fit the description.
"Owner of the Eskridge Pharmacy?"
"Right. But how did you..."
"Eskridge wasn't as big a town as it is now. With the
population under sixty, it's not tough to pick out the
chub."
Which brought up another issue with Jim, being such a
small town, how could he have not run across Cliff?
"What?" Cliff question, as Jim remained far away.
"Oh, never mind, so where was I?"
"Um, `big burley guy'? Combs?"
"Right. So, it was the father, not Jeremy."
"Continue, then?"
By this time, the two sat on the edge of the bed.
Still using the briefs as his `security toy', Cliff
took it away from him, replacing it with his hand.
"It's getting stretched out of shape," Cliff said of
his briefs.
"Sorry."
"No problem. So?"
"Sooooo," Jim lets out a big breath of air, falling
backwards on the bed.
Cliff falls back, turning on his side, elbow holding
himself up like a tent pole.
"They had my brother sitting in a kitchen chair, as if
in `the electric chair'. I figured I better leave, but
the preacher said I should stay... it would be good
for me to watch. The fuckin' bastard! He told my
brother to take off his shirt, all the time telling my
folks this `devil crap' about Ian being unclean. I had
to hand it to Ian. He had a lot of guts. The preacher
takes out this little bottle of holy water and
sprinkles it on Ian. Right over his head, mumbling
some kind of words, like `taking the devil out of
him'. I don't blame Ian for doing it."
"Doing what?"
When Jim sat up, beyond a doubt, reaching a climax in
his story, Cliff follows along, extending his care by
placing his arm behind Jim's back, his hand rubbing
the opposite shoulder.
"I think he meant to only push the preacher away, but
instead he punched him out."
"Punched him out? Like giving him the ole `one-two'?"
Cliff made like a fighter, each fist punching air.
"One, actually. I think he aimed for the stomach, but
came up short."
"The balls?"
"Right. In any case, right away the pastor falls to
his knees and this is where Mr. Combs steps in."
"Scary guy. When I was a kid, I always feared going to
the drug store for my folks."
"I get what you mean. Even to a seventeen year old
kid, Combs was like a giant, even though he was only
like five foot-eleven."
"More like six foot-one?"
"Was he?"
"I saw his death certificate and info by coincidence.
I always wondered how tall he was. I don't know why I
still remember."
A pause ensued, most likely Jim waiting for Cliff to
finish his thought.
"So, what was Combs' reaction?"
"Worse than road rage. He was a very religious man,
you know?"
"Like a lot of folk around here. Some still are."
"But Mr. Combs was `really, really' religious. And
protective, to say the least" Jim reinforced the
intent.
"But something else."
"What?"
"I really was a coward. Grabbing Ian, Combs began
yelling all this at him, talking about being the
reincarnation of the devil, having an evil spirit in
him, talking in so many words about exorcism or else
he'll infect all of us. Badgering, he turn to my
folks, saying if they didn't do something, Ian would
be going straight to hell because of the uncleanliness
of his soul. And I did nothing."
Furthering his massage action, Cliff responded,
"There's not much you can do when someone has
something set in their mind, especially hate."
"That's not the end of it. He convinced my folks to
put Ian in his `care'."
"Oh boy."
"Yeah. He took Ian out to the barn and wouldn't let
anyone, not even the preacher go with him. But since I
was a kid, I had found this small place I could
squeeze through, a short cut so I didn't have to go
all the way around the farmyard to get inside. See
this?"
Looking at the spot on Jim's arm, Cliff takes in the
scar, rubbing his finger over it.
"You get it from a loose timber?"
"Right. It was bleeding, but I used my handkerchief on
it."
"You should've put pressure on it."
"That's what I did. Well not right away, but later,
after the handkerchief was red."
"Next time."
"I know. So, I got inside the barn, hiding in one of
the stalls. In between the slats, I watched as Mr.
Combs began to `drive the evil spirit out' of Ian.
Taking a lanyard, he tied Ian's wrists together, then
threw the other end up and over the rafters. He hauled
him up, like a slab of beef. The whole time Ian cursed
him out, using every `evil word' in the book. This
only infused a deeper anger in Combs."
"Like he didn't know any curse words?"
"Then, taking off his belt, he started whipping Ian
all over his back."
As if a parent listening to a child, Cliff took Jim in
his arms, the feeling of emotions readying to pour
out.
"I was such a fuckin' coward, Cliff!"
"No."
"Yeah. I should have stopped him. You should have seen
it. Ian's back was all red, bleeding and his cries
make me cry!"
Weeping as if the day it happened, Cliff felt such
sympathy for Jim, kissing him on the side of the face,
as a comforting parent would do, using the loose sheet
to wipe away the flood waters.
"Like I said, Jim. When hate is involved, paired with
high strung emotions, there's not much one can do,
especially when you are young. We don't understand
things like this. It's natural for us to think ideas
like it's `our fault'. Thinking we could be
responsible for causing someone's grief, because we
didn't react and didn't stop it."
Taking a breather, Jim reveals, "Before coming out,
Ian made me swear I wouldn't interfere. Dammit, Cliff
I loved him so much and he loved me."
"Apparently. I can sense it. So, what became of him?"
"He wound up in the hospital. His wounds became
infected. He showed me the welts. They were hideous."
"I don't doubt it. I know what a strap can do to an
animal's hide."
"I felt so bad for Ian. He was in the hospital for
weeks. Mr. Combs claimed the evil spirit had been
driven out."
"Geesh!"
"Towards his second week in the hospital, which I
visited everyday, Ian told me, going home, things
would never be the same. I agreed with him, asking him
what we could do. Cliff, I never told my folks I
helped Ian with his plan to runaway."
"And what kept you from going with him?"
"Ian thought it best I stay. You see, Cliff, I don't
know if this makes any sense, but Ian didn't hate our
folks. He just didn't like what they let happen to
him. He said I, being younger, to keep my feelings of
being gay quiet. He convinced me, saying nothing,
would be best. So I kept it quiet for awhile about my
gay sexuality."
"Until?"
"About four months later, after Ian disappeared
without a trace, I kind of went off on them at the
dinner table."
"Did you....."
"Yes," Jim read Cliff's mind. "I hadn't planned on it,
especially after agreeing with my brother on the
silence tactic. However, I got so sick of hearing my
folks blame each other. Tossing back and forth the
same ole shit, each telling the other they shouldn't
have called in `the church' on the matter, saying if
they hadn't, Ian might still be around. Well, it built
up inside of me so much, I couldn't take it. I just
had to vent my feelings."
Sitting there, the moment heated up, Jim forming
sweatbeads on his body, Cliff's hand feeling the
masses of perspiration.
"Yeah, I can picture it as clear as the day it
happened. There I sat, watching them sling the shit
back and forth, til I finally threw my heap of mashed
potatoes onto my plate. I swear it could've broken the
china."
"You must've been steamed."
"Oh, I was. Especially enough to lose control and hurl
curses like they had been everyday vocabulary. They
weren't. Both Ian and I knew, in our Christian home,
such words were considered tabu."
"So, you cursed them out and?"
Shrugging, Jim just said, "I told it like it is,
ending my monologue, I revealed being gay."
Cliff's reassuring smile, let Jim know he could be
trusted, not doubting it for one minute.
"I take it they weren't too hasty to run to the phone
this time?"
"No. They sat there. Maybe `stunned' is the word."
"Most likely, thoughts of losing one son is enough for
one lifetime."
"I think."
Perhaps, Jim thought, he was meant to be picked up by
Cliff, come be with him, see there could be another
man to trust, one who showed sympathy, interest in his
own wellbeing. His past relationship, taking up with
an opportunist, he wasn't so quickly to trust. In
Cliff's arms, Jim began to restore some of his trust.
"Thanks."
Cliff saw other questions in Jim's eyes, but for now,
let a kiss seal off their conversation, to be picked
up on at a later date.
"It's getting late here. Why don't we finish this over
breakfast?"
"Sure."
"Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine."
Picking up the laundry basket, Cliff throws the
tightey-whities Jim played with in.
"But, they're not dirty."
"No, but a little out of shape."
"I'm sorry."
"The dryer will remedy the situation."
"I'll get dressed."
"Try the bottom drawer."
Waiting, laundry basket clutched by two hands, walking
through the doorway, Cliff looked over his shoulder,
as Jim opened the bottom drawer.
"Under the white tee shirts," he called over to Jim.
Lifting the crewneck tee shirts, Jim makes a
discovery.
"Where the hell did you get this?"
It brightened the room immensely, Jim smiling, holding
up a sexy red thong!
%
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.